


she kisses like a grenade

by silvereth



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Blood Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, fae!tracer, vampire!widow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 19:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9510209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvereth/pseuds/silvereth
Summary: [...you respond with your own flash of fangs and a quiet growl, half warning her off, half daring her to follow through. If you have to fight for your meal, you’ll do it—the sane part of you knows you need only ask but it’s a quiet echo behind the roaring of your instincts, the fierce desire to bite, and tear, and feast--]or, the vampire known as Widowmaker had to lay low for a while to avoid the monster hunters on her tail, and spending three weeks in a box underground would leave anyone a little restless.





	

**Author's Note:**

> probably going to wind up part of an extended universe, but in the meantime: enjoy some blood drinking smut.

You’re not sure what time it is.

Hell, you’re not even sure what _day_ it is. You’re pretty sure it’s still February, but even that’s up in the air right now. You’re deep, deep underground and your phone has been off, so you can’t trust its clock or calendar. The last time you went down for a nap, you accidentally stayed down for three decades.

How long has it been?

Is anyone you know still alive?

Is Lena--

You need to get out of here.

Gasping for breaths that you don’t actually need, you claw at the cover of your “bed” until you remember where the latch is, fumbling to find it in absolute darkness. The reasonable part of your mind knows that panicking is useless—worse than useless—but there’s no way the reasonable part of your mind can win over fear and hunger after being asleep for so long.

(You hope it’s only been the planned three weeks. You’d pray too, if you thought it would do you any good.)

Cover successfully removed, you roll out of your box-bed to the packed-dirt floor, sucking in huge breaths of air, trying to intake as much of your surroundings as you can. Still underground, but less claustrophobic than the box. All your limbs are still here and working fine. Itching in your jaw—ignore that. A little unsteady on your feet, but upright and moving. Still can’t see anything, but that’s fine, even your eyes don’t work if there’s literally no light. Dry, itching throat— _ignore that._

You think you remember where the door out of here is in relation to your bed, but you’re disoriented and you can’t see a fucking thing. Your urge to leave this damp and filthy hole is overriding your sense of caution though, making you lurch out in the direction you’re facing--

Straight into a wall. Excellent. Now you can taste as well as smell the dirt.

 

You find your way out eventually, dragging yourself up the rotting wooden staircase and through the decrepit trapdoor, out into the starlight and cool air of the London night. You pause there for a moment, unconcerned by your unprotected position—not even the drone patrols come out to this district, full of dangerously aged warehouses, crumbling ground and exposed, rusted piping. The slight hint of fog feels cool and clean in your mouth and lungs, ushering out the last traces of your awful hiding place from the corners of your mind.

You do what you have to in order to stay safe, but that doesn’t mean you have to relish it.

Calmed somewhat by the open air and the distant sounds of city life, you take stock again. Sometimes waking up from long naps leaves… undesirable side-effects, at least until you’ve had time to recover. Everything seems to be in order, and now that your phone can connect to its satellites it tells you that it is February 25th, meaning that you overshot by only a couple days, to your immense relief.

You’re very hungry.

Lena will be worried about you.

Two birds with one stone, then.

 

* * *

 

 

She’s on you before you can blink, slamming you back against the wall next to the window you just swung through with her arm pressed against your throat. A good reflexive action, even if it’s mostly useless against you. She must’ve been training with Ana since you’ve been away. She’s got her teeth bared and close enough to your face that you can tell she was eating salt and vinegar chips just before your intrusion. You’re pretty sure that’s not included in her training regime, but then her metabolism functions on an entire different plane than most, so who are you to judge? You respond with your own flash of fangs and a quiet growl, half warning her off, half daring her to follow through. If you have to fight for your meal, you’ll do it—the sane part of you knows you need only ask but it’s a quiet echo behind the roaring of your instincts, the fierce desire to bite, and tear, and _feast_ \--

She’s five feet back in the space of a heartbeat, breathing hard, blue light flickering around her hands and eyes. “Amé, luv, why didn’t you _say_ something, I could’ve hurt you!”

You sneer, staggering upright. “Hardly, _chérie._ ” You can hear her heart racing, hummingbird-quick. “Our dearest _madame_ Amari may be whipping you into shape, but you’re still no match for a vampire, even a half-starved one.”

She scowls, biting the inside of her cheek. “I was _worried_ about you, Amélie. When you didn’t come home on Monday, I thought...and you wouldn’t tell me where you hid yourself, so I had no way to check on you.”

“Safer that way,” you reply reflexively, but soften at the genuine concern in her voice. “I am fine, _mon coeur_. Just overslept a little.”

“You said ‘half-starved’,” she says accusingly, stepping closer. You grit your teeth, trying not to inhale. Fae blood may not be your bread and butter the way human blood is, but _god_ does it intoxicate. She knows this, but her instinct to help overrides her caution—as it so often does.

“Only half, Lena. I am alright.” The rasp in your voice isn’t convincing anyone, especially not her.

She frowns at the lie, but reaches out to brush her hand over your cheek anyway. “C’mon luv, I picked up some pack blood from Angie, she says it’s the batch from only a week ago...”

“ _Non_.” You nuzzle into her touch, letting yourself enjoy the contact. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, but y’need to eat something or you’ll be stark ravin’ in a few hours.”

 “And I plan to use those few hours in a better way than sipping stale blood while you hover and fuss.” You lean forward, pulling her in with an arm around her waist and burying your face in her neck, breathing deeply. She squeaks in surprise, then rests her hands on your hips and relaxes against you with a resigned sigh.

“Fine. But you gotta eat sometime, and I hate seein’ you all—Amé!” Her grip tightens as you place an open-mouthed kiss just below her ear, your tongue flicking briefly over her skin. You hum in satisfaction, your free hand coming up to slide into her hair and tug her head back slightly, giving you enough room to nuzzle at her throat. It makes her wriggle slightly, blood rising to the surface as she blushes. “Warn a girl, would you?”

You scoff, feeling the bob of her throat as she swallows hard. “Consider this your warning, then.” You thrust your knee between hers, grinding your thigh against her as you suck at the skin over her pulse point, laving over it with your tongue. She bites back a groan, her hands sliding down to your ass and pulling herself tighter against you, her hips following yours. The steady, rapid rhythm of her heart pounds in your ears as you taste the rush of her blood just under the surface, teasing you with the memory of its heat and sweetness. You want her, on you, _in_ you, in so many ways. Your head is spinning, ears filled with Lena’s faint panting, hands tangled in her hair and pressing sharply against the small of her back.

The press of your fangs against her neck makes her squeak and press impossibly closer. “It’s okay, you know,” she murmurs. “Hell, it even gets me some of my jollies, too.” She glides a hand up to cup your jaw, prompting you to look at her. “Only, uh, maybe we should move this to the bedroom? Gets a little dizzy, and you don’t like moving much after, and you complain when we have to cuddle on the couch.”

You growl softly, dropping your head to her shoulder. “Stop making so much sense, _chérie_ , it ruins my appetite.”

She chuckles, stroking your hair. “Doubt anything could manage that, luv. C’mon.” She takes your hand gently, leading you down the hall.

You lunge at her as soon as you get through the doorway, taking you both down onto the bed, pinning her hips firmly between your legs. She laughs, her voice going breathy and high in her throat as you press kisses to her collarbone, pausing only to pull her shirt up over her head. You feel desperate, needy, but you can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed because you’re just so _hungry._ Normally you take your time, normally you’re cool and refined and composed but right now all you know is the ache in your jaw and the inviting hum of Lena’s blood under her skin, just the thought of it getting you drunker than wine. She squirms and arches under you, pushing up to rest her weight on her elbows, head thrown back and throat bared.

“Go ahead, luv,” she tells you, voice husked low. “Don’t hold back.”

You’re obeying the words before they really have time to process, mouth open wide as you sink your fangs deep into the base of her neck, both hands wrapped around her torso to hold her against you. You both groan at the same time—hers in satisfaction edged with pain, yours in sweet, sweet relief. The taste of her floods your nose and mouth, her blood coating your tongue. It takes you up almost immediately, your head spinning as the world dissolves around you—there’s nothing left except you and her and the places your bodies join. Her hands on your waist, your nails digging into her back, her hips grinding up against you, her pulse under your lips—

The orgasm rocks you so hard that you cry out in surprise, fangs pulling out of her flesh at the wrong angle. You’re barely aware of her flinch and curse as you shake in her lap, pressing your centre down against her instinctively, chasing more of what you’re feeling. Your fingers tingle, your spine going tight at the sparks dancing up it. Lena is looking up at you in surprise and a little awe, and you can’t even manage to feel smug; there’s no room left in you for anything but pleasure.

Her expression shifts to a smirk as you come down, panting softly against her shoulder. “I’m that good, am I luv? Didn’t even have to touch you right and you’re already makin’ a right mess.”

You growl and press your mouth back to her skin, lapping up the blood that’s dripped free, chasing the rivulets down her collarbone and breast. She purrs appreciatively when you pause to lap at her nipple,  breath catching when you take it between your teeth. Moving back up to her neck, you continue what you came here to do, fastening your mouth to the open wound and sucking in greedy mouthfuls.

You’re so preoccupied you don’t notice what her hands are doing until your fly is open and her fingers are finding their way into you easily, her palm grinding against your clit. You groan against her neck, tilting your hips to give her a better angle, hands fisting in her hair. This was exactly what you needed, you realise—not just the blood, but the contact, the care, the release. After spending nearly a month asleep in a box underneath a dilapidated warehouse, hiding from law enforcement and monster hunters alike, this is what you need: to let go. To put it all in Lena’s hands, to let her care for you, to let her satisfy your needs without your usual show of denying them. You can feel your hunger in your entire body, and you want nothing more than for her to sate you.

And she does so with enthusiasm, her nails digging into your ass as her fingers pump into you steadily, pulling your notes of pleasure up into a climax as skillfully as any musician. She’s stopped bleeding by the end of your second orgasm, chuckling at the way you gasp and shudder through it. The world starts to come back into focus somewhat as she flips you onto your back, finally peeling your jeans off your legs as she fucks you down into the mattress. You link your ankles at the small of her back and pull her down against you, claiming her lips in a desperate, messy kiss. She licks her way into your mouth and you groan helplessly, surrendering as she presses kisses against your cheeks, your jaw, your neck.

You start to hurt, the pulse of her fingers still making you pant but also aching in a way you can’t ignore. “Lena,” you mutter, touching her cheek. “Lena, I can’t—I’m not sure I can—“

“Easy luv,” she assures you, kissing your palm. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” She withdraws from you with a wet sound that makes you keen, holding your gaze as she brings her hand to her mouth and licks it clean. You groan softly, your own mouth opened slightly at the display, hips twitching with the loss of rhythm.

With an easy grin she slides down your body, pressing her mouth against you and sliding her tongue into your folds with no preamble. You moan and arch into the contact, hands finding their way into her hair again. You love this beautiful disaster of a woman, love how she handles you like you’re something to be cherished, how she fucks you like it’s all she ever thinks about. You close your eyes, settling into the shallow grind of your hips, the slick glide of her tongue, the soft sounds she makes as she works you to completion.

She brings you off for the third time slow and gentle, making you shiver and collapse against the bed, too tired to do anything but enjoy the feeling as it swamps your entire body. She takes her time making her way back up to you, laying soft kisses on your thighs, your hips, your breasts. Finally you work up the strength to pull her up, tipping you both onto your sides so you can tangle your legs together and sling an arm over her waist possessively.

She giggles and kisses your nose, then nuzzles up under your chin. “Welcome home?”

You smile. “Something like that.”

“Gonna nap?”

“I cannot sleep until the sun, _chérie_. I may rest, though.”

She yawns. “Suits me just fine. Haven’t slept right, the last couple weeks.”

You smooth her hair back from her face fondly. “Then sleep now, my little fool.”

She doesn’t answer. She’s already gone, breath evening out and heart slowing down to something approaching normal. You kiss her forehead, pulling the covers up over you both.


End file.
